The world is my oyster (card)*

Evan had an appointment with his asthma specialist at 6:30 p.m. tonight. The doctor's office is almost halfway across the city, and I'd assumed that we would just take a cab there as usual. But I completely forgot to book the car early in the day, and when I finally thought to make the call at 5:30, I waited on hold for 20 minutes only to be told that there were no cars available. I now had 40 minutes until we were expected to arrive and no one was even answering the phone at my backup minicab company. Clearly, if I wanted to get us to this appointment, I was going to need to be a bit more proactive.

Out of the flat I ran, dragging my annoyed children, a stroller and my battered old A to Z street map. Studying the Tube map as we half-jogged, I steered us toward a local station. Wuss that I am, I had never actually taken my kids on the Tube without another adult before. This would have been uncharted territory even if I'd had half a clue where the heck I was going. No time to think about that now.

Despite our collective inexperience, the kids sensed and responded to my determination, and I was delighted to find that we were a well oiled travel machine. Down the steps with Evan's folded stroller on my back and both kids following cheerfully. Down the escalators with their hands in mine. Onto a train. Two stops and out. The line that I had intended to transfer to was experiencing delays, so I decisively announced that we'd just be walking from there. Up the escalators, hands in mine. Up the stairs, all in a line. Into the stroller went Evan as Julia and I commenced our half-jog down Marylebone Road. I turned my A to Z upside down (the only way I can follow a map is if it's facing the same way I am), consulted it briefly as we waited at intersections and forged ahead in what I prayed was the right direction.

We arrived at the doctor's office only 2 minutes past our allotted appointment time. The doctor saw us nearly immediately, pronounced Evan to be in good health and sent us on our way. I could have tried to call the cab company again and maybe lucked into a ride home, I suppose, but by now I was in the groove. Into a nearby station. One stop over and then a line change. Up and down stairs and escalators, kids by my side, stroller on my back, confidence soaring. Onto our last train, which would take us to a bus stop where we could catch a lift very nearly to our front door.

I beamed with pride as I looked down at my fellow travelers, who had handled the journey with such finesse and street savvy. Why had I waited so long to take my kids on the Tube by myself? This was a snap. They knew what to do and I knew what to do. We were Londoners now, through and through, I thought proudly.

And then, as the kids and I rode out the remainder of our journey, I happened to glance up at the Tube map posted above my head. I studied this detailed depiction, which had been designed to highlight only this section of the Underground's extensive network, for a moment and was pleased to have visual confirmation that we were headed in the right direction. I was just starting to look away when something caught my eye. And there, looking closer at the map, I saw my error. I had completed the walk-Tube-transfer-Tube-bus thing like a near pro, yes. But a true pro would probably have known that there was direct route from point A to point B which would have cut out more than half the steps in my journey. We had just done a giant half-circle around a short, straight shot.

Have I mastered this city? I was almost ready to think so for a few minutes this evening, but apparently I'm not there just yet. I'm damn close, though. And the high I got from my near mastery leads me to believe I'll close that gap in no time. I wonder where the kids and I should venture out to tomorrow...


* Am I dumbing things down too much or shedding some much-needed light on this post title if I mention that refillable Tube payment passes are known as Oyster Cards?